


I am not whole without you

by whoistorule



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Blood, Childbirth, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoistorule/pseuds/whoistorule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was she afraid those craven ladies had asked of her, when her belly was still broad and heaving, for her mother had died in childbirth, had she not?</p><p>Afraid, Cersei had laughed, why her mother had died birthing a monster, and no child of Cersei’s, of theirs, could ever be such a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am not whole without you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [houselannister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/houselannister/gifts).



The babe was ripped from her, red and squalling.  “A boy,” Maester Pycelle wheezed, and by the gods he was.  Cersei could see his cock bobbing between his chubby legs; their shared blood was painted crimson on his pink skin, with a perfect tuft of gold hair matted against his crown.  Her belly was swollen, her cunt, her legs throbbing, and Jaime’s hand tightly squeezed in her own.

 _Was she afraid_ those craven ladies had asked of her, when her belly was still broad and heaving, _for her mother had died in childbirth, had she not?_

 _Afraid,_ Cersei had laughed, _why her mother had died birthing a monster,_ and no child of Cersei’s, of _theirs_ , could ever be such a thing.

And then she was alone in the birthing chamber, surrounded by Robert’s men, men who would rather see her die with a live baby than live with a dead one. For a moment, she let fear in, let it rest against her belly and slither in her lungs, until Jaime burst in, shoving all Robert’s men aside. With his hand in hers, with his baby pressing hard against her cunt, fear melted and triumph rang in.

When she had been pushing, when all had been blood and shit and strain and exquisite pleasure and pain, Cersei felt as she did when Jaime was in her, whole and complete, her body giving way to the ecstasy of being, the way she never could be when she was alone.  Once the cord was cut, the wholeness vanished, and she was Cersei once again, clawing and fighting as she must, for there was no peace to be had for the cockless.

Her son (their son) would never feel that way.  He had their blood, Jaime’s and hers, their sweat, their perfection.  “Give him here,” Cersei rasped, wrenching the child from Pycelle’s papery arms and clasping him to her naked breast.  Greedily, he suckled at her tit, though her milk had not yet come.  “Out,” she commanded, “All of you but Jaime.”

“But my lady—“

“Out!”

Like sheep they clustered and herded, bowing and scraping and bumping their way through stone archway, until the door was latched at last.

No sooner had Cersei’s mouth opened, Jaime’s name forming with tongue and teeth and open lips, did he kiss her, long and deep and wanting, even while their child suckled against her breast.

“I want you.”

“Not here,” she hissed, though she pained to say it.  She should have him here, on her bloody birthing bed, should have him while the court’s greatest fools listened to her cries and mistook them for childbirth’s latent pains, should have him nestled inside her, should feel whole again.

All around her the room was bathed in yellow light.  The septon had lit candles, Pycelle had insisted on a great fire, and her body ached from the heat of it. There was blood on the sheets, on her thighs, on her breast where her child lay wanting, his new mouth twisting about her nipples, taking from her what she had little to give.  Jaime glowed gold in his armor, shining bright as the Warrior himself, but Cersei was no longer the Maiden, not with a son fresh from her belly lying warm against her as he was.

“You’re as beautiful as the Maiden,” Jaime said, as if he had lifted the thoughts from her mind, his left hand drifting against the side of her cheek.  Cersei kissed his fingers, sucking at them as greedy as the babe at her breast. “I could have killed the Maester for looking at you, all the King’s men too.”  His sword hand traced her dirty hips, the swell of her thighs, “Call them back in and I shall, and we can fuck on their corpses.”  His hand was clever as it brushed against the gold hair of her cunt, streaked still with red birthing blood.  “Say the word and I’ll slay the whole city, only let me lie with you.”

“Jaime,” Cersei breathed as his thumb twitched against her clit.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in Westeros,” his fingers plunged into her, and Cersei groaned.  It wasn’t enough; though his hands were fine and clever, they were no replacement for his cock, for the slick feel of him inside her, and yet she came all the same, their babe still suckling at her teats.

“Tonight,” she whispered as Jaime pulled back his hand and began to lick it clean.  Robert was sure to be well and fully drunk, with the triumph of his hunt, with the birth of his golden son.  How apt that his sigil be a great stag, when he would claim the child that placed horns upon his head.  He would sleep like the dead tonight and not stir her, not when the Maesters told him how weak childbirth made women.  (How strong she felt.  How little they knew.)  “Come to my bed tonight.”

—

A boar slept beside her, wearing the skin of a man who called himself king. His once strong arms were already bulging with the weight of the day’s hunt (the day’s feast). Each time his protruding chest heaved, she winced, the wine stench burning in the perfumed air.  This was the indignity in which Cersei Lannister awaited her brother; naked beneath the furs that her barbarian husband slept atop, her breasts full and swollen, her belly sagging and empty, and her cunt wet and wanting, all the while he snored, deafened and blinded by blood and wine.

The opening door cast a dagger of yellow light into the blue dark.  It unfurled quickly, revealing her golden brother and his golden torch. Snorting, he ensconced the torch beside the bed and glared at the melting puddle of brawn gone to seed that snored beside her.  “Should I kill him for you?”

“Jaime,” Cersei warned, but no sooner had she said his name did he kiss her, drawing the breath from her lips.

“Let me kill him.”

Shaking her head, she pulled him back to her, kissing him openmouthed, her naked body pulsing with a heat that had little to do with the thick furs.  As if he read her mind, Jaime, shoved her husband over over, and grinned as Robert Baratheon the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm rolled off his bed, pulling the furs with him, knocked over the chamber pot and landed in a puddle of wine and his own urine.

In the flickering amber of the torchlight, Cersei lay back against her marriage bed, naked as the day she, they, were born, and watched as her brother, pulled off his gloves. The leather stretched as he tugged it from each finger, and Cersei felt her own fingers twitch in response. Jaime was going all together too slowly. Perhaps he needed a reminder of the importance of urgency.

Lips parted, Cersei drew her fingers along her hips slowly, her eyes never leaving Jaime’s.  Just as she brushed the golden hair of her cunt, his sword hand snapped to her wrists, pulling them, and her, up. “Don’t, or I will tie you to this bed myself.”

Wrenching her wrists from Jaime’s grasp, Cersei reached forward, slipping her hands beneath his small clothes to grab his hardening cock.  Sliding her fingers along the length of him, Cersei smiled. “I need you, Jaime, now.”

Pushing her back against the bed, Jaime straddled his sister, kissing her with a force that Cersei matched.  She shoved his breeches down one handed, the other still circling his cock, thumbing the tip as she stroked. Cersei’s cunt was slick, soaked as it had been since the hour of Joffrey’s birth, and there was far too much cloth between Jaime and herself. His smallclothes tore as she ripped them from his groin and guided him into her.

At last, they were joined.  Breaking their kiss, Cersei groaned as Jaime thrust into her.  His shirt, too, she tugged off of him until he was as naked as she.  Twining her legs around his waist, Cersei rose, twisting Jaime over until it was his back that lay against the damp sheets. Rolling her hips, Cersei fucked him into the mattress, fingering her clit with each thrust.

Never one to be outmatched, Jaime shoved his chest up and began to suck at her swollen breasts, his tongue rolling against her nipple, flicking and licking until she could not stop herself from moaning his name. “Jaime,” she called out, forgetting entirely about her unconscious husband, the servants that roamed in nearby corridors, and the legions of spies that no doubt mortared the Red Keep, each with a different master. “Jaime Jaime I need you, Jaime!”

Tearing his lips from her breast, Jaime silenced Cersei with a kiss, groaning against her.  Again and again he plunged into her, and Cersei could feel herself nearing the precipice with each thrust.

They came in tandem, twin breaths catching in the night. Cersei saw her own heavy lidded smile on her brother’s face, as she drew back, worn out but lustful still.  Collapsing against his chest, Cersei nestled against him, Jaime’s cock still filling her cunt.

“Our son is beautiful,” she whispered, kissing her brother slowly and deliberately.  Between her thighs, she could feel him begin to stir.

“The first of many,” Jaime said when she broke the kiss. “Perhaps we’ll make another son tonight.”

Shifting beneath her, Jaime rolled her over until he was atop her and began to shift his hips. “Robert—“

“Sleeps. And if he wakes, I will kill him.”

“Jaime—“

“I will kill him and any other man who might stop me from fucking you.”

“Kiss me.”

Mouths open, eyes open, Jaime fucked her, and Cersei him, golden mirrors writhing bare in the torchlight.

She was whole at last.


End file.
